


Not the Point

by Char (Deiph)



Category: Arrow (TV 2012), Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Ficlet, M/M, arrowolf
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-28
Updated: 2012-11-28
Packaged: 2017-11-19 17:56:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/576061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deiph/pseuds/Char
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek and Oliver enjoy challenging each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not the Point

Derek’s arm snapped out with unnatural speed to slam into Oliver’s chest as he spun by, sending the man staggering to the floor with a hard grunt. It was a short-lived victory though as barely had Oliver hit the ground when Derek’s legs went flying out from beneath him, sending him down into a mess of limbs and the appearance of violent chaos.

But it wasn’t unrestrained violence and it wasn’t quite chaos. They were both too well experienced for that and when they sparred, they sparred rough and dirty but never out of control.

The backdrop of Oliver’s underground lair was a blur of industrial scenery in the corners of Derek’s vision as his muscles strained to keep purchase on the man wrestling with him. Oliver was an ever moving flight of sharp movements and jabs, sometimes underneath him, sometimes on top.

Derek could swear he heard the man let out a short bark of laughter after being hit in the ribs by his cleverly timed twisted kick. He couldn’t imagine what was amusing about that, but then again Oliver had a warped sense of humour. They broke apart for a moment, flipping to their feet lightly, re-evaluating their positions.

They were evenly matched for the most part. Oliver was far more skilled with weapons but during their sparring he never used them, just as Derek never fully transformed so that his teeth and claws would become lethal daggers. They preferred it this way, both partly human – Derek with his near-werewolf strength and speed, Oliver with his finely honed training. They fought bare-chested and weaponless. It was more raw, more intimate without anything between them, just their hands grasping at each other, up close and personal. They launched together again, Oliver’s hands enjoying the grasp of slick muscle, Derek’s teeth wanting to scrap against exposed throat. Oliver’s throat was rarely exposed though. He was too good for that, though that hadn’t stopped him from teasing, skipping a few steps out of reach to wipe a trail of sweat from over his jugular, eyes sparkling in amusement at the flair of darkness in the werewolf’s eyes as he watched.

“Surrender?” Oliver challenged with a grin as he took in Derek’s hastened breathing.

Derek let a low animalistic growl sound in the back of his throat in response. “Never,” he snarled, sharp teeth glinting in the light.

In the flash of a second the werewolf leapt and the game played on.

 

*           *           *

 

Stiles sat on the edge of a bench pushed against the wall in the lair, his arm crooked around one bent knee, head tilted to the side to rest on Dig’s shoulder, the bodyguard’s arm casually resting around the curve of his neck.

“They’re fairly evenly matched,” Stiles commented casually, enjoying the view in front of him with sharp, interested eyes. “Neither of them are going to win.”

Dig nodded with a small smile. “Yeah,” he replied, simply.

“Do you think they realise that?”

“Don’t think they care,” Dig said with a shrug.

Stiles gave a low, dirty laugh. “No, that’s probably not the point, is it,” he acknowledged as he watched the werewolf and the vigilante grasping at each other’s half-naked bodies as they continued to challenge each other for dominance.

“ _Definitely_ not the point,” Dig agreed as he settled back more comfortably with the boy in the crook of his arm to enjoy what was likely to be a long night of viewing pleasure.

 

THE END.


End file.
